


Nights Like This Lead to Love Like Ours

by butterflybaby91



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Accidental Relationship, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 00:46:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflybaby91/pseuds/butterflybaby91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire meets Enjolras and they become friends, even as Grantaire finds himself hopelessly fascinated with Enjolras and then things get weird.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nights Like This Lead to Love Like Ours

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the song Bonfire Heart by James Blunt

Grantaire watches. He always watches—from the back of the room; through the fog of alcohol. He watches the blond man standing at the front, talking to the crowds, preaching of freedom and equality. Grantaire is never noticed by him, but that’s okay. Usually. Until one day it’s not. Until one day Grantaire stands and interrupts the blond. When he does, the other man’s eyes flash. Angry, fierce, and determined. Grantaire’s heart starts pounding and it doesn’t stop. He doesn’t notice anyone else as he argues back and forth with the blond. With Enjolras, the angel, sent from Heaven to lead the people to freedom. Everything else fades away when Enjolras’ anger descends on him. Those are the moments he comes to live for.

He starts making his presence known more. He becomes friends with the other men who are in the activist group and they all begin to hang out, but he is still distanced from Enjolras—their only interactions being when they argue—when Grantaire is pointing out the flaws in Enjolras’ plans and ideas. Sometimes he crosses a line and Enjolras tells him to leave—but usually he thinks he can see a hint of appreciation in Enjolras’ eye as his arguments are strengthened by Grantaire’s attacks, but the idea of being useful and appreciated startles Grantaire, so he just grabs another drink and tries to disregard it.

Soon, they’re not only arguing in meetings, because one day they run into each other on campus and Enjolras brings up a discussion point from their last meeting—then the two walk around campus, talking freely, hands waving with emphatic gestures, words coming out in white puffs of air through the cold November chill. They pass hours like that until finally they end up parting ways with Enjolras dashing off, almost late to class.

Meeting up soon becomes a regular thing. If Grantaire didn’t enjoy it so much, he might be a tad freaked out by Enjolras’ uncanny ability to always find him on campus whenever he had a free minute, but now he lived for those run-ins.

One night, after a regular meeting, Enjolras grabbed Grantaire’s hand just as he was about to slip out the door, “Wait a minute would you?” he asked and Grantaire can only stare at him in bewilderment and nod.

Enjolras dragged him back into the room and waited until everyone else had left. Then, he shuffled his feet and glanced wildly about the room for a minute, before fixing his full attention on Grantaire, “I was wondering,” he began and his voices seemed to quake unexplainably, like he was nervous of all things, “if you would like to meet up for coffee with me tomorrow?” and when Grantaire does not reply right away, because he is too shocked to utter a word, Enjolras quickly added, “I’m working on a speech for the protest next week and would love for you to give it a read through.”

 _Oh_ , Grantaire thinks, trying his best to squash the disappointment he feels bubbling up in his stomach, when he realizes that Enjolras was just asking for his help and nothing—nothing else, “Sure no problem,” he agrees readily enough—whatever Enjolras needs him for, he’ll be there.

But the next day, when Enjolras never gets around to pulling out his speech, Grantaire doesn’t even realize, as they sit there drinking multiple cups of coffee and peacefully discussing books, philosophy, music, and other, more mundane, subjects. When they finally part, Enjolras squeezes Grantaire’s shoulder with a smile and goes the opposite way away from the café and Grantaire—Grantaire just watches him go, slightly dazed, his shoulder burning where Enjolras’ hand had left a permanent, albeit invisible, mark.

Grantaire runs, quite literally, into Enjolras, the following Wednesday as he is coming out of the library, balancing a stack of books higher than his head, that goes tumbling to the ground, when Grantaire brushes by too closely, not even realizing it is Enjolras he was passing.

“Oh shit,” Grantaire muttered and bent down to start picking up the books. He is shocked when a blonde tuff of hair is suddenly on the ground with him, “Enjolras?” he asks and then quickly apologizes, “Didn’t see you there—so sorry.”

Enjolras shrugs and offers up a smile, “Couldn’t see myself,” he laughed and Grantaire thinks it’s the most wonderful sound he’s ever heard, “How are you?” Enjolras asked him, face suddenly somber, eyes boring into his intently.

“Good, fine,” Grantaire spluttered and Enjolras smiled again as he stood precariously holding his pyramid of books, “Do you need any help with those?”

He frowned, “Weren’t you headed into the library?” Enjolras asked him and Grantaire just shrugs; he really did not have a purposeful destination, “Well if you don’t have anything going on, I’d love some help,” and with that Enjolras deposited half of his books in Grantaire’s waiting arms and they headed off in the direction of Enjolras’ apartment.

Grantaire had never seen Enjolras’ apartment, so he didn’t know what to expected, when Enjolras unlocked the door and kicked it open with his foot, but somehow, the lived-in, messy feeling the place gave off, did not surprise him. There were papers, flyers, and pamphlets everywhere, books strewn across every flat surface and a laptop winking from the desk in the corner of the living room. Nothing was _dirty_ per say, but it was all rather cluttered like the inhabit never had time to clean up and it was all very Enjolras, “Where should I put these?” Grantaire asked when he realized he was just standing in the doorway holding Enjolras’ books.

“Mmm, on the table’s fine,” Enjolras called from where he had disappeared in the kitchen. Grantaire deposited them on a semi-cleared spot of the kitchen table and then just stood awkwardly in Enjolras’ living room.

Heaving a sigh, he called, “I’m gonna go,” and Enjolras appeared in the doorway frowning.

“You have to go?” Grantaire just shrugged—he didn’t have to, but he certainly didn’t want to intrude, “Well if you want to stay you can—I was just gonna make something to eat—we could have lunch and watch a movie if you want?”

And that was how Grantaire ended up watching a movie on Enjolras’ couch in the middle of the afternoon. At first, he held himself awkwardly, afraid to get too close to Enjolras, not sure what he should be doing with his hands, or his feet, or his anything. But then, Enjolras accidently leaned into his shoulder to grab the remote and turn up the volume at one point, and didn’t move away, and Grantaire started to relax. If Enjolras was going to not care if he touched Grantaire, than Grantaire would take all he could get. By the times the credits rolled, Enjolras had his head resting lightly on Grantaire’s shoulder, his feet stretched out length wise on the sofa, and Grantaire’s arm was slung over the back of the couch, not quite touching Enjolras, but probably hard to miss as well.

It was Enjolras who moved first, stretching and sitting up with a sigh, “Well I should probably get back to work—this was fun though,” he said turning to Grantaire with a bright smile, “Sorry to have kidnapped you.”

Grantaire laughed and stood up, “Nah, I wasn’t doing anything important today,” he muttered, as he stood awkwardly looking down on Enjolras. Enjolras jumped up, just as Grantaire started walking toward the door, “I’ll see you later?” he asked.

Enjolras nodded and kind of jumped across the room to Grantaire’s side, “Yeah see you,” he smiled and his arms came up, pausing inelegantly before he pulled Grantaire into an unexpected hug. When he pulled away, Grantaire just forced a smile and fled.

His heart was hammering as he raced down the stairs and into the darkening night, trying his hardest to put that hug— _friends give each other hugs, especially Enjolras’ friends they hug like every five minutes, it meant nothing, it was just a hug_ —out of his mind. He kept thinking this over and over so by the time he got home, he had calmed down and was able to think more rationally.

The next time he saw Enjolras however, Grantaire almost flinched when the other man went into give him a hug. He kept reminding himself that they were just friends and the hug meant nothing, as he embraced the blond on the sidewalk in front of the library. Enjolras had asked him to meet up and do homework, for what reason Grantaire could not fathom, but here they were. It took everything in Grantaire’s power not to inhale as his head became buried in Enjolras’ shoulder and the smaller man squeezed him tightly.

They broke apart much too soon for his liking, but that was probably a good thing—even the brief contact had left him feeling like his body was on fire. Once inside, Enjolras made a beeline for the politics section of the stacks, and Grantaire followed a fond smile on his face. They settled down at a table and started working—well Enjolras started working, Grantaire kept getting distracted watching Enjolras out of the corner of his eye. The blond did not seem to notice him watching, but Enjolras was _fascinating_. His expression kept flying through a range of emotions—annoyed, thoughtful, concentrating, and back to annoyed—as he read whatever textbook he was engrossed in. He chewed on the tip of his pencil every little bit and Grantaire had to swallow hard as his eyes fell on Enjolras’ thin pink lips wrapped around the equally pink eraser.

It was as Grantaire was staring at his lips that Enjolras finally looked up, he caught Grantaire’s eye and Grantaire could feel himself blushing, but Enjolras only smiled and went back to his book, leaving Grantaire feeling guiltily and confused—he would’ve thought Enjolras would put up a bigger fuss about being watched, but he probably didn’t realize Grantaire had been creepily staring at him for a solid ten minutes.

Hours later, when Enjolras finally decided he was ready to leave the library—Grantaire had been ready to stop working about an hour into the study session, but he had been content to sit there and pretend to do homework and instead watch Enjolras, for as long as Enjolras would let him—they were walking out the door and Grantaire’s hand accidently brushed Enjolras’. _Oh shit_ , Grantaire thought as he jerked away as fast as he could, trying his hardest not to invade Enjolras’ space.

When he looked at Enjolras, the blond was frowning, but didn’t say anything, only pulled Grantaire into another hug, before saying goodnight and hurrying on his way.

These random homework and discussion meet-ups somehow kept happening and Grantaire was happy Enjolras and he were actually talking instead of just arguing. Really he was. But he was also confused, because Enjolras kept _touching_ him and not just hugs. There’s a casual hand on his shoulder, as Enjolras passed by one night. There’s a grasp of his forearm after he said something particularly insightful at a café one afternoon. There’s several more hand brushes, that Grantaire is almost certain were not his fault, but he is quick to retract his hand anyway, just in case. And about three weeks later, Grantaire feels like he is constantly jumping, constantly trying to make sure he isn’t subconsciously invading Enjolras’ personal space in some weird attempt to get close to him—but after three weeks, he’s pretty sure it’s not all in his head.

They’re halfway through Hotel Rwanda, with Enjolras almost pressed up against Grantaire on Grantaire’s ratty old couch, when Grantaire suddenly realizes that Enjolras and he are _dating_. Grantaire pauses the movie and Enjolras looks at him, about to complain, but then he sees the  confusion on Grantaire’s face and stops, “What’s wrong?” he asked, and Grantaire just shakes his head and flees the living room, in favor of the kitchen.

He’s popping open a beer, when Enjolras catches up to him. His hands are shaking and he can’t look Enjolras in the eye, “What’s wrong?” Enjolras pressed, his hands snaking around Grantaire’s wrists, warm, secure, calming. He pries the bottle from Grantaire’s hands and makes Grantaire tilt his head up to look at him, “Grantaire,” Enjolras intoned, “What happened? Why’d you run?”

Grantaire shakes his head, biting his lip, scared to open his mouth, scared of what might come out if he does. He can’t believe he didn’t realize it before. What must Enjolras think? Did he even realize? If he didn’t Grantaire didn’t want to be the one to inform him of the fact that they had been going on what were essentially dates for weeks now—they were on one now for goodness sakes! What else do you call two people watching a movie alone on a Friday night? How they had gone from arguing at meetings to _this_ , Grantaire couldn’t recall. He racked his brain for the answer as Enjolras just looked at him in panic, “Grantaire,” he said again, “Please tell me—I can help.”

Enjolras’ hands slid down to grasp Grantaire’s, interlocking their fingers together. Grantaire stared at their entwined hands, finally muttering, “What are we doing?”

Enjolras frowned, “What do you mean? We were watching a movie—you stopped it.”

“No.” Grantaire shook his head, “What are _we_ doing—why are we hanging out like this—what is going on? I… I just realized what this looks like and I’m sorry. I never meant to coerce you into doing anything. I’m not sure how this happened. I’m so sorry. I’ll…I’ll just go,” Grantaire said and made to pull away from Enjolras.

The hands in his tightened as Enjolras refused to let him move, “Grantaire—this is your apartment and what do you mean?” he repeated, “I don’t understand—what’s wrong with watching a movie with your… boyfriend?” he asked with a hesitant smile.

Grantaire just gaped at him, “What did you say?” he choked.

Enjolras grimaced slightly, “Sorry I know I never asked properly, but we’ve been going on dates for a while now and I just assumed…” he trailed off and looked at Grantaire hopefully.

Grantaire’s eyes squeezed shut and he shook his head, “What?!” he blurted shocked, “What? We’ve been… we’ve been going on dates?!” he could not believe what he was hearing. How had he not known this? When had Enjolras asked him out? Had he gotten so drunk one night that he couldn’t even remember what surely would have been the most important moment of his life?

Enjolras blanched, “You didn’t know?” he asked quietly, eyes wide in shock.

Grantaire shook his head, mutely, unable to say anything.

“You didn’t know,” Enjolras repeated, almost to himself, looking at the ground and letting Grantaire’s hands fall to his sides. Then he looked up abruptly eyes practically glowing, “How did you not know—I asked you out?” he demanded and he sounded almost angry.

Grantaire felt himself getting defensive, but he tried to keep his voice level as he asked, “When? When did you ask me out?”

“That night I pulled you aside after the meeting—right before we started purposely hanging out together—is this why you really wouldn’t let me touch you?” Enjolras spluttered, realization suddenly dawning on his face.

“You...” Grantaire began and then laughed, “Enjolras—you thought that was an acceptable way to ask someone on a date?” he inquired mirth filling his voice, as Enjolras nodded, “you asked me to help you with a _speech_ ,” Grantaire informed him, full on laughing again as Enjolras’ face turned bright red.

“I was nervous,” he muttered under his breath and didn’t meet Grantaire’s eye.

“Enjolras,” Grantaire said, smiling at the blushing blond before him, “I would’ve said yes in a heartbeat.”

Enjolras looked up at him, “So you’re not mad? I’m sorry I thought you knew—although I was beginning to wonder why we hadn’t kissed yet, but I was much too nervous to initiate that,” he babbled.

Grantaire inched forward with a sigh, until he had pressed Enjolras up against the kitchen wall and the man stopped talking and was just looking up at him, “No, I’m not mad,” he told Enjolras, who smiled blindingly, “And, if you’ll still have me, I’d love to be your boyfriend, in spite of the lack of proper invitation,” he laughed.

Enjolras rolled his eyes, but wrapped his hands around Grantaire’s waist pulling him closer, until their bodies were flush with each other, Grantaire’s hands bracketing Enjolras’ head on the wall, “Now,” Grantaire mused, “about that kiss,” before he swooped down and pressed his lips to Enjolras’.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Eh I feel like I wanted that to get more PWP-y. I might write a drabble for what happens after this later.


End file.
